King's Sacrifice

by Margaret Weis

  "I know he's lying! He knows he's lying! If that's all you've got to tell me, we don't have time—"

  "If you please, I've frozen the injured portion of the leg," continued the Loti, "and stopped the bleeding, but that is only temporary. He should not be moved—"

  "We're not leaving him behind. You know what those things would do to him. They'd eat him alive! After they made him talk."

  Raoul lowered his voice. "I am aware of that. And I have with me a certain drug—"

  Xris grabbed hold of the Loti by the collar of the red jumpsuit, twisted, half choking him. "Don't even think it!" he said softly, lethally.

  Releasing his grip, he shoved the Loti away. "We'll work out something."

  "I was about to say, before you got emotional"—Raoul, mildly offended, smoothed his wrinkled clothes—"that I have a drug that will kill any sensation of pain. Your friend would be under the illusion that the leg was fine. Of course, what harm he will do to himself while walking on it is—"

  "—a damn sight better than the harm that will come if we left him. Go ahead. Give him the drug. And, thanks," Xris added grudgingly. "I'm sorry if I was rough on you. But I thought—"

  "I have that, as well," replied Raoul, smiling serenely, removing a vial from the belt he wore around his waist, "but I did not think you would take kindly to the suggestion. The painkiller takes effect quickly. He will be ready to travel in only a few minutes."

  "Good." Xris stepped over and around hunks of broken steelglass. The cyborg moved cautiously, the floor was slippery with oil and dead Corasians. "See anything?"

  Harry was covering their exit. He shook his head.

  "No, but that wailing noise is slicing right through my skull! What the devil do you figure it is?"

  "An alarm of some sort. We're about ready to move out. We head down this passage, then into another one of these caverns. Off that, there should be another passage leading to the computer room."

  "How's Britt?"

  "That shot tore hell out of his leg. He's in shock, lost a lot of blood. But the Loti's giving him something. He'll be feeling no pain, at least."

  "Goes till he drops over dead, huh, boss?"

  "You got a better suggestion?" Xris asked grimly.

  Harry glanced down at the dead Corasians, shook his head. "No, boss. Sorry."

  Britt hobbled up to meet them. "This guy's a genius." He threw his arm around Raoul, squeezed him tight. "The leg feels great! I feel great! In fact, I've never felt this good in my whole life!"

  The Loti flushed delicately, shook his head in modest deprecation.

  "Who knows," Britt continued with ghastly cheerfulness, "I might have 'em amputate the damn leg, give me one like yours, Xris."

  "You should be so lucky," said the cyborg, smiling.

  Britt laughed, limped ahead, on down the tunnel.

  "You and Bernard stay with him," Xris ordered Harry, who nodded.

  The cyborg glanced down at the rock floor, at the bloody footprints his friend left behind.

  Taking a twist from his pocket, Xris stuck it between his teeth.

  "Yeah, you should be so lucky."

  Chapter Eight

  ... I fled and cried out Death!

  Hell trembled at the hideous name, and sighed From all her caves, and back resounded Death!

  John Milton, Paradise Lost

  The tunnel was dark, silent, dimly lit by the flickering light coming from the cavern ahead. Maigrey and her small force moved forward cautiously, Agis in front, the half-breed guarding the rear. When they reached the entrance to the machine room, the mind-dead opened fire.

  Laser bursts exploded around them. Apparently, as Agis said grimly, this area of the caverns was "safe" for laser fire, probably due to the presence of the machines. Nuke lamps hung from various portions of the machinery's anatomy, lit the room. The lamps swung and rocked with the machinery's pounding vibrations, their light stabbed erratically here and there, caused the shadows to expand and contract, made the lifeless metal come alive.

  The four took refuge behind one of the strange machines that looked as if it had been designed by a drug-crazed Loti on a bad trip, and attempted to get a fix on the enemy's position. It became quickly obvious that they were outnumbered, outgunned, and pinned down. They fought until the beam rifles were drained of energy, the lasguns' firepower depleted. They flung the useless weapons to the floor, drew dart pistols and bolt guns, and fought on.

  Time and again, the mind-dead could have taken them. Time and again, it seemed that their position must be overrun. But the enemy held back.

  And then, abruptly, all firing ceased.

  "What does it mean?" whispered Brother Daniel. Creeping up to Agis, he handed the centurion what spent bolts and darts he'd been able to glean from those fired at them. "I'm sorry.

  This is all the ammunition I could find. But perhaps they've gone?"

  "Not likely," said Agis grimly. He'd taken a bolt in the right arm, was white-faced with the pain, but had transferred his gun to his left hand and continued fighting. "Regrouping for the final assault."

  Sparafucile perched above them on a ledge formed by a part of the machine. His rags hung around him. His eyes, peering intently into the darkness, gleamed with blood lust. He held long knives in both hands and reminded Maigrey of some hulking, sharp-taloned bird of ill omen, eager to swoop down and deal death.

  "I think there be nothing out there," said the half-breed. He sounded disappointed.

  "Impossible," Agis snapped, fighting against the pain of his wound. "They're trying to trick us, make us let down our guard."

  "No," said Maigrey, "Sparafucile's right. They're gone. They were ordered to go."

  She stood up, looked past the machines to the opposite side of the room, to a cavern in which it seemed she had lived herself for these last weeks.

  "It's safe. We can go on." But she didn't move, except to lower her bloodsword, close her eyes.

  She was exhausted. And it wasn't physical fatigue. A little rest, time to catch her breath, ease cramped muscles, and her body would be able to proceed. It was her spirit that longed to crawl quietly into darkness and find refuge there, as had Sagan's. She was frightened, frightened for her men, for Dion, frightened for Sagan, for herself.

  Fear was Abdiel's weapon. She knew it. She continued to try to fight, but it was a losing battle. She was alone, the silver armor that protected her flesh could not save her spirit from the continued jabs that portrayed to her the lives of those bitten by the serpent's tooth, the soul forced to watch in appalled horror from behind prison walls erected by the mind.

  "My lady! Are you hurt?" Brother Daniel asked, hovering.

  Maigrey shook her head, smiled bitterly. "That would be difficult. Not a shot came near me. See to Agis's wound."

  Sagan. She needed Sagan. She couldn't bear being alone like this.

  Agis leaned up against a portion of the machine, was trying unsuccessfully to tie a crude bandage around his arm.

  "Let me do that," offered Daniel. "Move over here, into the light."

  "It's nothing," said the centurion, jerking away from the priest's touch.

  "That's an order, Agis," said Maigrey.

  She looked around. Sparafucile had leapt from his perch, disappeared into the darkness on some errand of his own. Maigrey, sighing, turned back to the centurion.

  "How bad is it?"

  "Not as bad as it might have been," said Brother Daniel.

  The priest probed the wound with gentle expert hands. Agis stood quiet beneath Daniel's touch, jaw clenched, lips pressed tightly together. "A small explosive charge on the tip drove the dart through his armor, but the armor still kept it from penetrating too deeply and entering the bone."

  "Can you take it out?" Agis asked. Sweat glistened on his face.

  "Yes. But it's one of the barbed kind."

  "I know. You have to push it on through. Go ahead. If you're strong enough." Agis looked into Brother Daniel's pale face.

 
; "I'm strong enough," the priest said quietly. "I have some painkiller in my kit, but I don't suppose you'd take it."

  Agis shook his head, braced himself.

  Maigrey knelt beside him. "Hold on to me," she said.

  At first, she thought he would refuse, but then his hand clasped around her forearm. She took hold of his arm and held tightly.

  "Lord Sagan is in the next room," she said to divert his mind from what must come.

  "I won't take you by surprise," said Brother Daniel. "It's best to be prepared. When I count three. One ..."

  "The chamber is large and filled with the burning water. Four bridges span it, meeting in the center."

  Two . . .

  Maigrey felt Agis's grip on her arm tighten. He kept his eyes open, focused on her. "Yes, my lady," he said steadily. "Go on."

  "There are four entrances into the room, located at ninety-degree angles from each other. You and Sparafucile will guard those while Brother Daniel and I—"

  "Three."

  Brother Daniel gave a sudden shove. Agis caught his breath, stifled a groan. His eyes shut, his fingers clenched painfully over Maigrey's arm. She held him fast. He drew a deep, quivering breath, relaxed his grip.

  Brother Daniel held up the blood-covered bolt for Agis to see, then sprayed the wound with the combination bandage and disinfectant he carried with him in his medkit.

  "This will numb your arm. I can't help that," he said, seeing Agis's frown. "It's either that or you'll bleed to death."

  Maigrey offered him her canteen. "Only water. I wish it were stronger."

  Agis took it, smiled at her. "Thank you, my lady."

  "Don't thank me. Thank Brother Daniel."

  "All thanks should be offered to God," said the priest. Packing up his kit, he stood up, reached out his hand to Agis.

  The centurion hesitated, then slowly raised his hand to the priest's. Brother Daniel eased Agis to a standing position, steadied him when he swayed on his feet.

  "I'll be fine. Where's the half-breed?"

  "Here," said Sparafucile, materializing out of the darkness as if he were made of it and had only decided at the last moment to take shape and form. "I bring weapons. The dead provide." He gestured. "It safe to go on. I look. Dead-ones gone."

  Of course, it's safe to proceed. I have cleared the way. I would have enjoyed amusing myself with you longer, but Dion's spaceplane is arriving, and I must put my forces to better use. The young man has brought the bomb with him. Extremely thoughtful, to save me the trouble of going after it. Yes, my dear, I'm to have that, too.

  I should warn Dion, Maigrey thought, and it took an effort to think, just as it seemed to take an effort to breathe. No, she decided wearily. He knows the danger already.

  Sparafucile plucked at her sleeve. "We wait here long enough, maybe more mind-dead come to let us kill them. Except maybe this time they find their aim and kill us."

  "He's right, my lady," said Agis. "We should leave this place."

  "It's the silver armor," she told him. "It's so heavy. I could walk easier if it weren't for the armor."

  They were all staring at her, puzzled, concerned.

  Maigrey shook her head. "Never mind." She sighed, and moved on.

  "Xris!" called Lee urgently.

  The cyborg halted, turned.

  Britt had collapsed. He lay on the floor of the dark tunnel, Lee's arm cradling his head.

  "Sorry, Xris. Damn stuff that poisoner gave me's makin' me drowsy. I'll take a little nap—" His eyes closed.

  "Sure," said Xris, kneeling beside him. "You rest. We'll pick you up on the way ..."

  "He can't hear you, Xris. " Lee laid the flaccid body down on the rock floor. "He's gone."

  Xris removed the half-smoked twist from the corpse's ashen lips, tossed it with a sudden, angry jerk to one side of the passage. Then he stood up. "Move out."

  "We just gonna leave him?" Harry demanded.

  "He's not going to care one way or the other now. Go on. Move out."

  The others left. Xris stood a moment longer, staring down at the body. "You'd have made a rotten cyborg anyway."

  They continued down the tunnel, moving warily, weapons drawn. No red glow appeared, however. The corridor was dark, silent. Rounding a corner, they came to a section where several passageways converged.

  Xris motioned to his companions to fall back. Cautiously, keeping his body flat against the wall, he looked down one of the passages. About ten meters distant, at the end of the long corridor, was a dimly lit room, filled with banks of winking, blinking light. He adjusted his vision, enhanced the image, brought it nearer. He could see the computers themselves now, in sharp focus.

  "That's their main frame system?" he muttered. "Hell, I haven't seen anything like that outside of a museum."

  "Sure seems quiet," said Lee uneasily.

  "Sure does. I don't like it." Xris flattened himself against the wall.

  Actually, it wasn't quiet. Strange machines were clanking and clattering and pounding, added to that were whining and whirring sounds he could hear coming from the antique computers and the teeth-jarring wail of a siren. But Xris knew what Lee meant. It was too damn quiet.

  The cyborg risked another look at the room that housed the Corasians central computer system. It was large and would have ordinarily been dark, since Corasians needed no lights by which to work. But nuke lamps had been added, probably for the convenience of the mind-dead, whose human eyes required light to see.

  Two of die mind-dead stood outside the door of the room. Guards, most likely. By their rigid, unmoving stances, they could have been either asleep or truly dead, but he had the distinct and unpleasant feeling that they were very much awake and alive.

  He pulled back. Two zombies guarding the entrance. No sign of Corasians, though. I wonder where those bastards have got to all of a sudden.''

  "They are preparing to attack the young king and steal the space-rotation bomb,' stated Raoul.

  Xris dared at him. "Oh, yeah? How the hell do you know that?"

  "I do not know. The Little One knows."

  "He reads Corasian minds, too?" Xris eyed the raincoated figure suspiciously.

  "He reads the collective mind. It is not pleasant for him and he does not enjoy it. Corasians think of little else except devouring."

  "So where are they now?" Xris asked, putting a twist in his mouth.

  "They have an army, massed on the surface. When the spaceplane belonging to the young king sets down, they will launch an attack. Mind-dead fight among them. What are we to do?"

  "What we were paid to do. Check out these files." Xris took the twist out, pointed it toward the empath. "He know of any more zombies around?"

  "No. Only the two at the end of the corridor, who are currently unaware of our presence."

  "They're going to be aware of us pretty soon, unless your friend has a real good set of lungs."

  "His lungs are in excellent condition for someone his age, but I am not sure—"

  "I was referring to his talent with that blowgun," Xris said shortly.

  "Ah, you were being facetious." Raoul gave a polite smile. "Might I see for myself?" He slid around the cyborg, glanced down the tunnel, and came back, shaking his head. "The distance is far too great."

  "Damn! I'd like to get in there without them or anyone else knowing about it." Xris stuck the twist back in his mouth, chewed on it irritably. "Just what the hell are you doing?"

  "I will deal with the mind-dead." Raoul was pulling back his long hair, tying it behind his head in a knot. "Please, allow me," he added, giving Xris a charming smile. "It's my turn."

  "How—"

  "Wait, please."

  The Loti closed his eyes, concentrated a moment, then opened them. The pupils were fixed, unmoving. The eyes held no expression, the face was smooth, impassive.

  "Do you think I can pass?" he asked in the dull, lifeless tone of the mind-dead.

  "You're crazy," said Xris. "All right, you look like one of the
m, but these guys must all know each other by sight. They'll shoot you before you can get close enough—"

  Raoul shook his head, began to carefully draw his gloves off his hands. "The mind-dead have one flaw. Each is connected to only one being and that is Abdiel. They do not care about anyone else, including each other. Consequently, they do not know each other. Don't touch, please."

  Raoul drew his hands aside.

  "You're going to need this." Xris was holding out a dart pistol. "Unless you're afraid you'll break a nail."

  "My nails are quite strong. It is the cuticles with which I have a—Ah, facetious again." Raoul smiled, bowed. "Thank you, but I have no use for your weapon."

  Flexing his hands, he turned and, before Xris could stop him, strolled languidly and gracefully out into the passageway. As he walked, the Loti's body posture altered. He set his shoulders, stiffened his back and neck. He stared straight ahead, proceeded down the corridor with the fixed and unalterable purpose of one of the mind-dead, whose mental faculties have been directed toward a single goal.

  "Spooky character, that poisoner," said Lee.

  Xris glanced meaningfully at the empath, whose eyes glittered brightly beneath the brim of the overlarge hat. He wondered suddenly what Raoul meant by "someone his age."

  "Hell, the little guy knows I'm thinking it," Lee asserted defensively. "I might as well say it."

  Xris had to admit Lee had a point. The cyborg turned back to see what was happening in the tunnel.

  Raoul walked with even, measured steps toward the computer room. The two guards couldn't see him, due to the darkness, but they must surely hear him. If so, they gave no sign of noticing.

  Xris refocused his eye, kept the Loti in sight.

  Raoul stepped into a pool of harsh light. The mind-dead moved, at last. Xris swore softly.

  "What's going on?" demanded Harry in a loud whisper. "Well, damn it, I can't see anything!"

  "They've pulled guns on him," reported the cyborg.

  "Should we go?" Lee held his weapon ready.

  "No, give him a chance. They haven't shot him yet."

  "What are you doing here?" The mind-dead raised their weapons. "This zone is restricted."